


Some Fucked Up Form of Stress Relief

by TasteTheHemospectrum



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aftercare, Biting, Bulges and Nooks, Clothed Sex, Consensual, Consensual Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, First Time, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Hair-pulling, In Public, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex, Nook Eating, Nook Worship, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Platonic Hatred, Porn With Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Public Sex, Purring Trolls (Homestuck), Quadrant Confusion, Self-Pailing, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Character, Trans Dave, Vaginal Fingering, eventually, more like enemies with benefits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-10-23 03:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10710978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TasteTheHemospectrum/pseuds/TasteTheHemospectrum
Summary: “Just hear me out,” he implored. “Rose and Kanaya are in their own little yarn-draped zone, I'm not touching whatever Terezi and Vriska have, who even knows what the hell Mayor is, and I'm sure as shit not going to fuck with my ex-moirail, literally or figuratively.”Dave and Karkat try out that whole "friends with benefits" thing while on the meteor and get more than they bargain for, as expected. How predictable can things get?





	1. Intrusion

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa this is the first time I've ever posted anything on here, and I have no clue how anything works. Let's pray for the best.  
> Also, this is intended to take place at the beginning of the meteor trip post-retcon while the two of them still won't get along.

     The sound of my door opening jerked my attention away from the soundboard under my fingertips. I hesitantly slipped my headphones off and down around my neck once I saw the reflection of Karkat's eyes in the dim light. “The hell are you doing here,” I demanded, trying to make my voice as coldly monotonous as possible. “It's the middle of the fucking night. Even Rose isn't still up, writing her mile long, drawn-out porn about magical old man rivers waving around his wrinkly, old, liver-spotted warlock cock in front of other prune-faced gaylocks with their droopy asscheeks spread in some serious homo-ass hope to get a touch from the almighty flaccid dysfunction rod.” 

     “What a breathtaking fantasy you've just generously shoved through my auricular sponge clots with the force of a terrestrial matter plover, seedflap chewer,” he deadpanned. Before I could reply, he stepped in and slammed the door shut without any consideration for all the others trying to get some shut eye. Speaking of sleep, he didn't look at all like he was heading to bed any time soon. It wasn't really surprising, but I'd at least expect him to be in pajamas just for the comfort of it instead of sticking to the same itchy sweater and tight leggings like usual. “I'm here to ask you for a favor,” he grunted, his voice seeming raspy and exhausted. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

     I lifted an eyebrow so high that it almost peeked over the rim of my eyewear. “I would ask what it is, but the only sensible part of me awake right now is telling me ‘fuck no, dude, when has Karkat ever brought you any good fortune? Never? Thought so. You don't even wanna spend more time near him than you have to.’ So I guess I've got no choice but to give you the good ol’, shit smeared boot.” I shrugged. Being around him wasn't exactly a pleasure for either parties, which was very clear from the way Karkat’s face contorted into a scowl whenever we were in the same room. This time, however, he didn't take advantage of this perfectly prime cut opportunity to skedaddle. He padded over to my swivel chair and looked down at me sharply. I glanced back down at my work. 

     “You didn't even get to here my offer yet.” He ran his hand through his mussed hair, his fingers upsetting all the soft, dull waves that gathered between his horns like a turbulent sea of fossil fuels. The bags under his eyes, coupled with poor lighting casting shadows under his messy brows, made him look like an ugly raccoon glaring daggers into me. He was all tense and taut like usual, and the observation made me realize I was too. “I think…” he hesitated, shut his eyes, and fisted his fingers in his hair. “I think we need to try to fuck,” he forced past his grit teeth.


	2. Negotiation and Nook-Eating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave has a wide vocabulary dedicated to dicks.

     I went rigid with shock and accidentally flicked up the amplitude so much that I could feel the bass throbbing from the headphones resting on my clavicle. I had to turn it back down before asking “What?” I removed my headphones altogether and stood. “Look, I know I'm hella irresistible and all, but I'd never expect you to feel shit for me, let alone want to get down and dirty on the hay.” I looked down at him indifferently, now doubting every word that left his mouth.

     “I never said I was fucking attracted to your repulsive, pink mug,” he grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. “I just think that both of us have enough problems, and this could act as some fucked up form of stress relief.” He stepped right into my bubble, making my heart rate _double_ , but I sure as hell wasn't about to back down. His face was hardly centimeters from my neck, which I was well aware he could easily tear into if he tried. He didn't. “Just hear me out,” he implored. “Rose and Kanaya are in their own little yarn-draped zone, I'm not touching whatever Terezi and Vriska have, who even knows _what_ the _hell_ Mayor is, and I'm sure as shit not going to fuck with my ex-moirail, literally or figuratively.”

     He had a point, although I'd never admit it out loud. Everything was getting pretty stressful since the spider bitch started making us train for eight hours a day, and our options were limited here. “What if I—and don't get your hopes up—actually agree? Do you plan to just roll around in bed and snog like a couple of optimistic newlyweds on their honeymoon?” I poked him right in his chest, barely able to feel his hard sternum through the thick sweater.

     He barked a laugh, the smile accompanying it appearing sour and malevolent. “Of course not. I said I want to pail, not conjure up a romance story fit for Troll Nora Roberts’ taste. Just nook and bulge, or whatever Rose’s biology lesson called it for you... _things_.” He motioned down to my crotch, his lip slightly furled in what I could only assume to be mild disgust. “No emotional bonding necessary, or desired for that matter,” he assured me. It was somehow comforting to hear.

     I finally shifted a couple inches back with a heavy sigh, the extra space helping me clear out the cotton candy that had begun to accumulate between my ears. “Fine,” I conceded after giving it a few seconds of thought, “but not a single breath about this shitstorm-to-be is gonna waft outside of this room like that smell of piss and weed outside a middle school bathroom. Crystal?”

     The look Karkat gave me held no malice, amusement, or anger. He was completely down to earth, so to speak, to the point of disregarding my superfluous simile, and I was silently grateful for it. “Deal. Where are we doing this?” he asked and began to look around my despairing excuse for a living space. He distractedly kicked aside a small pile of clothing before noticing my twin sized bed in the corner, his pointed ears perking just slightly. It was as cute as it was disturbing, and I immediately mentally reprimanded myself for thinking that.

     “I think you've already figured it out,” I blatantly commented and strode over to it. Karkat followed determinedly, like he was on a mission. I sat on the edge, albeit awkwardly, and look down at my feet for a moment. As I kicked off my shoes, I suggested, “Do you just wanna go ahead and get right to business or–”

     “Have you learned nothing from the romcoms I brought?” he interjected and crossed his arms. “That is the worst way of doing things.” With that, he discarded his own footwear and clambered into my lap. I stiffened reflexively at the sudden unfamiliar warmth laid across my thighs. “Kiss my neck, sludge skull,” he ordered and yanked down the collar of his sweater.

     In all honesty, I expected him to take the lead. I definitely wouldn't have let him be the pitcher, no way in hell, but I just assumed he'd at least make an effort and put up a formidable fight.

     The impatient clicking sound coming from his throat was what brought my attention back to Karkat, and I only glanced up at him momentarily to see the unamused look on his face. Without having to be told twice, I tentatively rested one hand on his right side and the other on his opposite shoulder after discarding my shades, leaned forwards, and pressed my lips to the tendon that stretched down from his ear to his clavicle. He didn’t make a sound, but I felt his breathing pick up.

     I started with easy, slow kisses, gradually accustoming myself to the contours of his neck. His skin was smooth for a troll. Most feel coarse like the bottom of a dog’s paw, but his was pliant and seemed more like a human after spending time in the Sahara without moisturizer. I drew a faint, almost inaudible whine from him when I pressed my tongue wetly over the taut tendon, urging me to shift from placing chaste kisses to instigating a sloppy makeout session with the juncture of his neck and right shoulder. I settled for a pattern of pressing my parted lips into the tense flesh and sucking as I pulled back, my tongue swiping over his skin until it felt slimy and his entire body was rocking with it. His head nodded along in slow motion as if telling me, ‘yes, good job, Dave, you’re the best there is at this.’

     I began to move up the side of his neck until I felt his pulse drumming under my lips like an eager drum beat, and the delicate sound he made when I ghosted my incisors over it was downright wanton. I lifted my head briefly to find his ear and dragged my teeth down from just below the lobe to his clavicle, making him outright keen. I experimentally swiped my tongue right back up on the opposite side, drawing a breathy curse from him. By then, his hands had found my upper back, and I could feel the prick of his nails through my shirt as he kneaded his finger pads into my scapulae.

     I worked my way back down until I found his collarbone again and moved along it to the dip in the center at the top of his sternum. When I paused there and looked up at him, he opened his eyes and frowned. “What’s with the sudden hesitance?” he muttered, seeming genuinely curious and not as disgruntled as he ordinarily was.

     “Shirt’s in the way,” I declared because my words were, in fact, muffled by a mouthful of his cotton collar. He jerked out of my arms and onto his feet hastily as if I insulted his intellect (which I kind of did, but that’s not the point) and muttered a couple of swears under his breath as he wrestled the baggy thing off.

     “Is that more to your preference now?” he growled once he was finally topless. I slowed time, just for a moment, so it wouldn’t seem like I was staring when I took a good look at him. He already had a blush that reached from his cheeks to his alien ears and down to his neck, where the lovebites I left him were blossoming into a vivid burgundy. His lower lip was swollen and bright, probably from biting it. Part of me wanted him to bite my lips too. His body seemed off though. Something about the substitution of nipples and a navel for those dark strips on his waist didn’t seem right, like spontaneously coming across blank pages and obvious typos throughout a novel. His pants, unnecessarily tight for some reason (I guess Kanaya thought it’d make an acceptably decent outfit with his godawful sweater), had a defined lump in the front, and I flashed a brief grin before allowing time to resume its course.

     “It’s an improvement,” I admitted as I stood and grabbed his hips. He yelped in dismay when I swiftly shoved him down on the bed. “But I’m done taking my time,” I continued and knelt astride his thighs. I was still somewhat disconcerted by the fact that no, he wasn’t fighting my every touch ~~as much as normal~~ , and yes, he actually was more than willing to be under me ~~for once~~ , even when I hooked my thumbs in his leggings and yanked them halfway down his thighs, almost pulling his undergarments along for the ride. “Panties? Really? What next, am I gonna see a bra next time you go shirtless on me?”

     His face flushed the darker, delicious scarlet of his underwear, and his ears flattened indignantly. “You try stuffing a pair of boxers into a pair skinny jeans, and then you can come needle me all you want.”

     I snorted, which was the best kind of laugh that can be done with a straight face. “Already have. Forget living and learning, I’ve fucking rocked that look, just like everything else that has the privilege of laying a thread on my hot bod.”

     He made a half-assed attempt to kick me in the face, presumably to shut me up with a mouthful of crusty alien paw, but he only succeeded in bumping his heel lightly against my chest before his foot dropped down, subsequently parting his legs. With the better view, I could see the tip of what I assumed to be one of those infamous troll tenta-schlongs peeking out of the laced edge of one of the leg holes of his panties while the rest appeared to be smushed and tangled up under the taut fabric over his crotch.

     This time, I made sure that I was staring enough for him to feel it, just to see him squirm and his cheeks burgeon with an even darker shade of blush that had begun to proliferate across his shoulders. “What happened to moving things along?” he grumbled, refusing to meet his gaze, and I smirked. His legs were just about to close when I nudged his knees further apart and knelt down on the icy, metallic floor.

     “It’s not my fault I wanted to see what I’m workin’ with here.” He fucking chirruped like a startled cat once I had my fingers hooked in the waist of his underwear. “And it looks to me like I’m about to get friendly with the goddamn kracken. I’m gonna make it my honorable mission to get to know this little piece of slimy cephalopod shit. We might even become acquaintances and end up meeting regularly at Panera for some healthy-ass baked goods every Tuesday. Hope you still got that old shipping grid, cause shit’s about to go down, and by down I mean schedu-”

     He cut me off by seizing a fistful of my playing card symbols sheets and shoving it into my mouth. “Are we actually going to do this or what?” he demanded, kicking off his panties while he still had the opportunity. In response, I wrapped my hand around the middle of his extraterrestrial excalibur and cringed a tiny bit as his junk clung to my wrist like freshly unrolled saran wrap. I squeezed it experimentally, feeling the slickness of what I was assuming to be pre, and he moaned like a virgin in a whorehouse. I assumed it was just his rod that was sickening sanguine, but then I pulled my hand away and had to clench my jaw to keep from gagging at the diluted blood look of his slime, if that’s what it was. I grasped him again before I overthought things, this time holding him closer to where his admittedly thick hilt met the bunched up skin around it. With another tentative squeeze, I felt the slime slip out from under my persistent fingers, and the dense flesh gave with the same firmness of a ripe grape. My hand shimmied up the tapered shaft, if it could even be called that, until I reached the tip of his abnormally long luigi, Karkat gasping and mewling along the ride.

     Now that it was finally untangled, I got to do what I’ve felt the bizarre urge to do since I felt that donger squirming in my lap: I latched my lips around the tip and slid them down until it was comfortably filling my mouth and stretching my jaw open. His fingers were suddenly yanking my hair into tense fists against my scalp, and I groaned quietly around the oddly satisfying sensation of his soft tenta-dick writhing hot on my tongue. The sounds of his choked moans muffled against his palm was what really drove me to shove a hand into my pants though. Of course, the savory noises only escalated when I began sucking and swallowing on regular intervals, which I was almost happy to do with the way it made him press pleasantly against the walls inside my mouth. After only minutes of this, the back of my tongue was swollen and burning from all the sucking, but it just made it all the better when he squirmed deeper and coiled over my tastebuds.

     Before long, the perpetual pulling on my hair ceased and was replaced by the heel of his hand feebly pressing to my forehead. I was considerably reluctant to draw back, but I conceded, and the hot drag of his skin over my tongue left me panting and pressing my middle finger to my clit. The look on his face was of saturated arousal and haze, and my hips abruptly jerked into my hand. Still, that composed the incredibly eloquent question: “Why’d you make me stop?”

     “Because our biology is ludicrous as shit.” Each syllable left his mouth as a heavy breath. “And my entire lower half is going to be excruciating if I don’t have _something_ in my nook when I finish.” The way he worded it made it sound like banging was an inconvenience or even a burden, which was something part of me, probably that corner of my mind high off of sleep deprivation and the lingering flavor of alien wiener, wanted to change.

     “Just shut it and let me deal with your shit, as always, before I change my damn mind,” I growled and coaxed his beef aside. I was starting to like it more than him. Underneath, as Rose had informed me quite some time ago, was what looked almost like a regular snatch. It was honestly a nice change of pace to work with something at least fairly familiar; I didn’t even waste a second when I wedged my head between Karkat’s thighs and messily kissed the pillowy folds just below his Jimmy. Then, he let out a whine, I shallowly delved my tongue in, and he wailed, twisting and thrashing and curling his toes. I did it again, tasting faint sweetness inside of him, and he shakily mewled my name. I lifted my head, giving him a smug look as I licked off the fluids that got all over my lips. “C’mon, you can do better than that,” I taunted.

     Before he could give me what could only be a halfhearted retort with the state he’s in, I ducked back down, mashed my lips back against his snatch and plunged my tongue into him. He jolted and squealed, his hands yanking on my hair again as I licked at his oleaginous walls. The flavor wasn’t delectable, per se, but it was addicting as hell and had me driving my tongue in and out of him while he practically humped my face with his back arching off the bed.

     Soon, Karkat was letting out a long catalog of breathy swears, mostly consisting of, “Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” with my name mixed in a couple times. His quivering thighs squeezed my cheeks, and I could feel his heartbeat throbbing around my tongue like a goddamn hummingbird’s. All the while, I couldn’t help but rub myself harder with a now sopping hand under my god tier jammies, and I moaned into him. His heels found my back and dug in hard below my scapulae, forcing me closer. Everything was getting hot and frantic around me, and everyone on the meteor must’ve been hearing us by then because holy dick was he loud.

     He didn’t even give me a warning before he came, and almost molten spunk splattered in my hair because goddammit his willy was right there and drenching the back of my neck with that eye-straining carmine color of his. It was dripping down my chin too.

     He had no fucking right to be this sexy, but he somehow was, and that paired with the unctuous feel of my hardworking fingers was enough to get me to my apogee. I had to lurch back so I could breathe through my high as heat flooded over my fingers too. I didn’t even realize I was moaning until I had stopped and was just sitting back on my ass, panting hard. I barely registered that I wasn’t wearing my binder, and thank jesus and also past me for that.

     A simple glance upwards informed me that Karkat was in an even worse condition. His legs were still trembling like a fawn’s while translucent vermillion streaked his thighs. From my position, I could just barely see his chest heaving, as if I didn’t know with how loudly he was panting. As the cotton that orgasm had stuffed into my head was dissipating, I forced myself onto my feet, only to flop down on the bed beside him.

     I, obviously, was the first to catch my breath. “That was...not as appalling as I expected,” I confessed. He lazily slapped a hand over my mouth. “Don’t even start,” he managed to fit in a single exhale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This definitely isn't all of it. The whole point of this is putting a twist on the whole slow-burn idea by having more chapters involving sex than not. That way, my readers don't get impatient or bored like I do if it gets too long and sluggish. Regardless, it's going to be one hell of a ride and someone's going to cry at some point.  
> I can't say I'm entirely satisfied with how this chapter turned out; I'll try to make it a little more intense in upcoming chapters. The next is going to swap to Karkat's perspective, so fingers crossed that writing from a submissive pov is going to help.   
> Also, more kinks to come because I can't help myself. Feel free to comment if there's anything in particular you want to see later on!


	3. Morning Mulling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat thinks a little too much about what happened last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said before, this and the next few chapters will be written from Karkat's perspective in case it's not clear.

     I couldn’t believe I let myself fall asleep in Dave’s block. Granted, my thighs did feel all chilled and tacky with the residue remaining from only hours ago, even with the thick cloth (that smelled too much like him) draped over my legs like an afterthought; there was no way I would've walked all the way back to my temporary residence in that condition. Still, the disturbingly warm mass beside me impelled me to sit upright in his dormancy slat instead of idling at his side. A faint, bitter taste manifested in the back of my mouth at the reminder of this cold space rock’s lack of ‘coons and slime, yet the subtle soreness between my thighs captured my attention instead. It didn’t exactly hurt, but a couple touches from my middle finger here and there, along with some wincing, told me that my nook could use a break for now. For some reason, the relief I expected to accompany the idea that I wouldn’t be coming back here too soon didn’t arise.

     I grit my teeth when I rose to my feet. Astonishingly, my body didn’t ache as I had predicted, but my legs felt as weak as a hatchling’s. That didn’t deter me, though, and I picked up each article of my clothing left on the floor like the rest of Dave’s entire wardrobe. When I slipped my undergarments on, it seemed like the memory of his touches clung to it. The pressure of my sweater collar around my neck brought back ghosts of his lips and tongue; the quiet purr that rumbled briefly in my throat was what really made me shudder and hastily finish dressing myself. I could already feel my bulge shifting in its sheath, which made me growl under my breath.

     I hurriedly left him in his block, the fuckwit fortunately still asleep like it was hibernation season for humans. Walking back to my residence was tedious, and the entire time, I was acutely aware of the way my leggings adhered to my inner thighs with every agonizing step. Upon returning to my dreadful excuse for a respiteblock, I let out a heavy breath of alleviation. The bedding pile I usually slept in wasn’t exactly what any sensible troll would call comfortable, but it was admittedly tranquilizing with the way it gave under my back when I slumped down on it. Once I was adequately positioned, I kicked off every garment below my waist and sighed. 

     Although I remembered every detail of the previous night vividly - the languid drag of his mouth along my skin, his unexpectedly tender and careful fingertips - it still felt unreal, dreamlike even. The fact that he’d even agreed at all came as a shock. The rational part of my pan told me I must have fabricated the entire experience because there was no way in any timeline ever he’d comply to laying a single finger on my heinous body. Yet the memory remained as clear as crystal, and my fidgeting bulge incessantly reminded me. If I allowed my thoughts to drift long enough, I could still imagine the heat of his mouth around it, the gentle scrape of his taste buds along the underside, the pressure of his blunt teeth against my spread sheath, and the sudden electrifying pleasure that accompanied the tightening of his cheeks every time he swallowed.

     The sound of my slick bulge sliding out of its dilated sheath was what brought me back to reality. Fuck. I could feel my blush burn from my cheeks to my neck like wildfire. Somehow, despite being alone, it was humiliating that my bulge was already out when my night with Dave couldn’t have been even twelve hours ago. I instinctively let out a feral snarl, irritated by my mutinous body ~~like usual~~. Just the thought of being found like this was inexplicably making my nook leak torrid vermilion between my thighs, which I promptly clamped shut over it.

     No, no, I refused to touch myself. I never wanted to be ‘that troll’: the one who’s constantly getting off by himself, his eyes pinned to a porn virus-infected husktop for twenty hours a day with the lights off. No way in steaming, pungent sea cow shit would I become that troll. My biology, however seemed to have other plans. My bulge had wedged itself between my compressed thighs and was beginning to insistently prod at my oversensitive nook, making my innards twist. 

     I barely had time to shove the hem of my sweater between my teeth before it slid in, seeking out the warmth that came with moving deeper and deeper. I instantly moaned loudly from the abrupt, almost torturous sensation, and mentally applauded my barely competent past self for muffling it. If he hadn’t, then everyone on the meteor would’ve probably heard my embarrassingly vocal responses to the persistent wriggling inside of my nook and the frequent clenching around my bulge. As it sunk deeper into me, I could feel my nook stretching around it and letting out enough lubricant for an entire blood caste’s repulsive three night orgy. I couldn’t stop myself from stuffing my hand between my tense thighs and rocking my palm against the drenched, exposed base of my bulge. That only succeeded in pushing it deeper into my overstimulated nook, making me whine, but it felt too good to stop. I ground my hips into my hand, lifting and pressing languorously in a sloppy pattern. 

     All of my senses still felt dulled by drowsiness, and my bloodstream imitated liquid lead. At that point, it almost felt like a welcome change of pace. Every moment felt sweetly drawn out like taffy, as opposed to the feverish rush from the night before. I found myself hugging a pillow from the pile to my chest and kneading it with my free hand as my throat emitted a barely-there chirping noise. Then, the tip of my bulge flipped the switch from relaxing to urgent when it flicked something deep in my nook, making my back rise into an arch and my toes curl. It pressed much more determinedly to the same spot, and I whimpered loudly into the thick fabric of my sweater. 

     Soon, I had no choice but to roll over, bury my face in the squishy pile under me, and moan into a pillow as I humped my hips into my hand. It was demeaning, and the only thing keeping me from thinking of Dave’s abominable face between my thighs was the shame in feeling like a fucking desperate animal in heat. The thought only loitered in my mind momentarily before I felt my bulge rub over that sensitive place in my nook again, clouding all my thoughts with hazy bliss. 

     I only lasted a minute or so longer, and then my nook was fluttering while my bulge deluged it with the sickly sultry slurry. I fucking mewled into the coarse fabric of the pillow like a whiny wriggler and crumbled. It wasn’t pan-blowing, and it sure as shit wasn’t Dave, but when my bulge reluctantly receded, it was enough to leave my thighs twitching and my body even weaker than before. I indolently castigated myself for doing something that shitskulled this early in the morning; I would unquestionably regret it by the time I’d inevitably be dragged to pointless battle training like the rest of our soon-to-be-annihilated team, courtesy of her resplendent bitchiness herself. For now, however, I let myself remain where I was, ignoring the rapidly cooling material between my thighs as I let my thoughts wander back to the preceding night.


	4. Fighting Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A one-on-one strife gets way out of hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you've forgotten, this is still from Karkat's perspective.
> 
> And just as a heads up: you may notice more troll terms appear deeper into the chapter. What's basically happening is that, the harder it is for Karkat to think straight, the more he reverts to his native language by accident. He still uses human terms to describe Dave, though, because his subconscious associates human terminology with human parts while not making the connection that they're similar to his own anatomy.

    Dave on the battlefield (or rooftops used for training in this case), versus Dave off, frequently made me question if he was even the same person. Whenever we were just sharing a dispute over movie tastes or passive-aggressively antagonizing each other at the table during a meal, he was his loquacious and pompous and irritating self. When the polished blades of our weapons bit into each other under Vriska’s command, however, he would become almost unrecognizable. His body language would fluctuate from lax to rigid the second the clang of metal initiated a match. He’d drop into an almost natural fighting stance with his hands gripping the hilt of his sword hard enough for his knuckles to blanch, which was threatening enough for me to actually feel a brief pang of apprehension. His face always changed within that same instant, completely eradicating any subtle emotion that I’d never even notice until it’s gone. 

    He was a respectable fighter, possibly even deft enough to defeat an amateur threshecutioner. That is, he had claimed several victories over me in the past. Seeing his face, even though it was almost an entire pedigree since our one night stand, still made my knees considerably weaker, which I knew wouldn’t serve me well when we glitched our weapons from our specibi. He was going to win again, and I already knew it.

    As we stood frozen in time, glaring at one another from our ends of the metallic rooftop gleaming with the reflections of distant dream bubbles, my grasp on my sickles tightened. I always made the first move, and he somehow always anticipated it perfectly. I silently wished he would take the offense first for once, but he never would. Still, we stood motionless as we both waited for our opponents to trigger the fray. My pulse was already throbbing vehemently in my ears, almost engulfing the sound of my heavy breathing.

    He shifted his footing, and I lunged instantly, driven by poignant instinct. My right sickle slashed ineffectively past his shoulder when he simply stepped aside. Predicable. The curve of my left blade nearly caught his side as a counter, but he was suddenly behind me, judging by the sound of his fast-paced breathing. I quickly spun on my heel to swing my sickle into his side, but he blocked it with his sword.

    I somehow always underestimated his strength. Once I had his blade snagged in one of mine, I thought I had him, but with a simple flick of his wrist, my palm was suddenly empty, and my sickle was sent sliding with a metallic grind. I let out a feral growl of agitation and swung at him again, only to slice through thin air once more. I couldn’t even see him for a split second, and then he was at my side, preparing to bring his sword straight down to my head. I narrowly managed to duck away but lost my footing the moment his blade passed my face, which was almost close enough to graze my eyelashes. The hollow thud that emphasized the feeling of my ass slamming down hard on the roof reverberated, accentuating my ignominious fuck-up. 

    “Christ in a pair of terrestrial rolling transportive footwear, were you trying to bisect me like an amphibian?” I shouted up at him as he stood over me, his weapon still in hand. I held my remaining sickle in both hands in front of me like a pathetic, hiveless troll trying to protect his last rancid grubwurst from an imperial drone. 

    The response I got was his weapon colliding harshly with mine again. With the amplified support, I was able to hold him in place long enough to shove my foot at his shins. I succeeded in knocking his legs out from under him, but as my shit fortune would have it, he fell directly onto me. Our weapons strewed across the roof, far from either of our reaches, which left us with nothing more than our own bodies to fight with. 

    The skirmish didn’t last long; at first, I was clawing and kicking while he obstructed each of my potential blows with maddening agility. Then, he shifted to the offense, and his hands swiftly took charge with almost invasive grabbing and pulling. What usually felt purely like ordinary physical combat was modestly titillating. I couldn’t tell if it felt that way because of something new he was doing or the intrusive fantasies that most definitely originated from my odious bulge. Speaking of which, I could already feel that vexatious nuisance pressing to my sheath in the most uncomfortable way possible. I wanted to kick myself. 

    I was still fighting back until I fisted my hand in his hair and yanked. He moaned like a professional pornographic celebrity, and I faltered. Of course, he took the opportunity to return the favor, except he gripped my horn instead. The immediate heat and buzzing I felt made me gasp reflexively, and his other hand was suddenly under my shirt, and I was arching off the ground. As if he had fucking practiced a million and one times, he smoothly slotted his knee between my legs and gave both my horn and one of my scars a solid squeeze. I squirmed, barely able to keep my eyes open and glare at his dispassionate face. 

    It took his hand only seconds to traverse the small expanse of my chest before reaching those useless lumps of fat, that could barely be called rumblespheres, and groping one shamelessly. It was an odd sensation, but it made my abdomen clench and drew unbelievably loud moans from me. I couldn’t hinder them, but the hand on my horn abruptly disappeared, and Dave shoved two fingers into my mouth. They helped muffle my groans, thankfully, but even so, they kept pushing, essentially finger-fucking my mouth. Each time they slid in, he applied relentless pressure to my tongue, pinning it down until my lips reached his knuckles, and then he’d nearly completely withdraw them again. The pattern eventually synchronized with each squeeze around my rumblesphere while I too was mewling in time.

    I almost forgot about his knee between my thighs until he ground it directly against my nook. The two layers of unfortunately sheer cloth separating it from my unnecessarily sensitive skin didn’t do much to help, and I let out a whimper. My nook was leaking like a cracked aquarium, embarrassingly so, and I was certain he could feel it through his thick cotton pants. 

    He opened his mouth, and I braced myself for a snide comment, calling me desperate or disgusting, belittling me like some fucked up part of me craved. Instead, he asked me something that somehow hurt a multitude more and made my prongtips feel icy: “Is this okay?”

    My saliva felt like a stone lodged in my protein chute as I tried to swallow, and I nearly thanked him for removing his digits from between my lips because that made it just a little easier. “Yeah,” I rasped out as if I’d just recovered from tuberculosis. “You didn’t have to ask,” I added.

    He ignored that part and wedged that same hand between my thighs without another word. I buried my incisors into my lower lip, which already stung, as I let out a high pitched sound. The calloused pads of his fingers rubbed lightly over the swollen lips of my chafed nook, dragging the sopping fabric over it exquisitely and sparking a lightning shower under my skin. My prongtips were frustratingly klutzy as they frantically tried to tear away at the cling of fabric over my nook. He eventually picked up on what I was doing and hooked his thumbs in the waists of both my leggings and undergarments, sliding them both down to my knees at the same time. As expected, my bulge was all too eager to emerge and latch onto one of his wrists as his other hand disappeared under the hem of my sweater again. 

    Between the abrupt disappearance of pressure to my skin and the striking, chilly air against my slimy inner thighs, I was fidgeting and letting out these tiny, involuntary whimpers. They only stopped when I felt his fiery touch back where it certainly belonged. 

    With the obstructive fabric out of the way, his fingers slipped clumsily over the slick folds of my nook. It had to be embarrassing for him, losing his graceful momentum like that, but the brevity of the friction was both an immense tease and twice as satisfying, especially when I felt him skim over that sensitive nub just at the top. The acute sensation of his rough finger pads scraping smoothly across my skin left me squealing and breathless. Then, one sunk into me. 

    It moved smoothly, and I almost didn't notice since I was producing enough lubrication to fill a pail halfway. I did feel the subtle stretch, and as it inched in a little deeper, the stinging bite of his unkempt nail (I vaguely recalled his recurring habit of gnawing at them). I hissed almost inaudibly. The sound must’ve been what made him hesitate to press deeper, so it quickly dissipated into a needy whine that I may or may not have feigned to convince him to resume. 

    Something changed in his expression, and I maybe saw a momentary flash of concern, but it was forgotten the instant that his single digit curled upwards decadently. Whatever he pressed against gave, and I couldn't think. Everything seemed fast and slow at the same time, and maybe it was because of his fucking time shenanigans or just the way he played the inside of my nook like a musical instrument. I belatedly realized that, without his fingers in my gaper, I was moaning too, and not the usual breathy gasps either. They were heavy and vocal and  _ loud _ . My knees pulled at the taut clothing confining them because I so desperately wanted more; I wanted to feel this tenfold, I wanted to feel his tongue in me again, I wanted to feel him on and around me like this but  _ more _ . 

    He mercifully slid in another, and I felt the need to spread my legs even further to compensate for the thickened pressure between the hot inner walls of my nook. The discomfort it contributed was insignificant in comparison to jolt of bliss that tore through me as he rolled both fingertips against that same tender spot. I was rapidly reduced to a squirming mess, making sounds I didn’t even know I was capable of producing. All the while, I was jerking my hips up uncontrollably, wordlessly begging for something that not even I knew. His response was curling his fingers even more, pressing his bent joints against my back wall and digging his fingertips splendidly into the sensitive spot deep down inside of me. 

    As if having his fingers shoved into me and my bulge constricting around his bony wrist wasn’t enough, he flicked his thumb nail over that abhorrently sensitive nub. I did nothing short of fucking trilling like a wild animal and bucking my entire lower half up erratically. He pressed harder against the underside of my rumblesphere, cracked a slight smirk, and that was it. All of my senses focused in on the electricity rushing through me and the sound of my own moans. Even that was all drowned out by the staggering ecstasy moments into my high.

    Upon coming down, the first thing I noticed was the taste of human pheromones and my own slurry on my tongue. It took me a second to realize he was steadily stroking his coarse fingers over my taste buds and that his knuckles were periodically brushing against my cartilage nub. He was sloppily finger fucking my mouth just like before, and it was probably the only thing keeping my big gaper from making every last soul on the meter think I was being eviscerated.  My thighs were scalding, my chest felt sore, my cheeks were sticky with drying moisture, and my nostrils were burning dry from laboriously breathing through them. Despite all of that, I chose to focus on the rhythmic undulations of his digits between my lips. 

    He eventually withdrew his fingers, which, although upsetting, was inevitable. Then that cheating fucker flashstepped a couple meters away. It was, to some extent, a relief to have no one looming over me anymore. I felt like I could finally breathe, but it was bittersweet without the flavor of his skin. With a glance in his direction as he sauntered towards the rooftop transportalizer, my discontent was replaced by mild amusement when I spotted the slightly visible dark patch of damp fabric over his crotch. 

    I was tempted to call him out on it, strangely desiring the regular, spiteful banter that often occurred between us, but his shoes hit the raised platform, and he vanished. As I shimmied my leggings back up my thighs with difficulty and approached the transportalizer, I absently reflected on the faint throb of disappointment from missing my opportunity and something else that I couldn’t quite touch my fingertips to.


	5. The Redder the Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's that time of year again: the wonderful season of gift-giving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching back to Dave's perspective.

    Since the moment I saw “carcinoGeneticist” in that bland slate color on my phone screen who knows how long ago, I thought I didn't want anything to do with Karkat. Thus, it never so much as occurred to me in even the most bizarre dreams that I'd constantly want my hands all over him, but I guess, here we are. Nowadays, after endless months on this godforsaken hunk of junk in space, the sight of him no longer made me fucking nauseous to hell; instead my skin itched with the desire to feel his heat under me. I had noticed my gaze fixated on his lips on more than one occasion as my thoughts drifted off course towards memories of the kinds of sounds that escape them whenever I’d managed to get my hands on him. The guy was becoming my goddamn nicotine; the more I got my fix, the more I was getting hooked. As much as I hated to admit it, I was fucking thirsty as shit for him by the time I was standing at his bedroom door with a poorly-wrapped, ill-intended gift. 

    His familiar frown contorted into a look of mild surprise when he swung the door open. Thank whatever fake-ass god orchestrating reality that he was sensible enough to make an assumption about what I wanted instead of loudly demanding an explanation. As he stepped aside without a word, his eyes lingered on the crumpled wrappings in my hands, but he didn't ask about what I brought until the door was shut. We had an unspoken agreement to keep our lips sealed outside of our rooms to elude the possibilities of Terezi’s persistent, invasive questions or the knowing, sidelong glances from Rose that I got all too often regardless. 

    The soft click of his bedroom door’s lock triggered a less than subtle interrogation. Wonderful.

    “What is it?” he demanded, blunt as ever.

    “What is what?” I automatically countered as I took a seat in the swivel chair at his desk.

    “Right, I forgot that literally no living, sentient being in the entirety of fucking existence can get a straight answer from you without wasting a minimum of half their lifespan to negotiate for a vague clue. I wish that feathery doppleganger of yours was here instead because at least he skips the riddles.” Karkat bared his shark-like teeth before snatching up the package from where I had placed it on his desk, and I crossed my arms, smirking just enough to trim that fuse of his just a little shorter.

    “C’mon, sweetheart. Don’t be a bad sport. Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m here before you talk yourself to death?” I asked, only to get a curled lip and sharp glare in immediate response. 

    “I can already guess, you transparent pearfuck.” He held up the ‘gift’ momentarily, making its contents rustle under their half-assed wrappings.

    “Then are you going to open it or not?” I quirked an eyebrow over the rim of my aviators. 

    “I was getting there. Don’t rush me,” he practically huffed. It reminded me of a surly twelve year old who’d just gotten his Xbox taken away. As he plopped his tight ass down on the edge of his untouched bed and tore into the wrapping paper with all the reckless abandon of a middle-aged soccer mom with three kids and a pomeranian named princess, I took the opportunity to get a good look at his unfamiliar living space. It admittedly wasn’t in as much of a disarray as my own. Instead of moldy wrappers and crushed soda cans, he had a couple of weird-ass grub things lying around by my feet. If it wasn’t for the cords stabbed into their technicolor flanks, I’d either assume they were troll candy, dead babies, or fucked-up sex toys. Come to think of it, a lot of his shit was squishy-looking and segmented, including his laptop. I couldn’t tell if I was grossed out or thought they looked kinda cool. More of the bulkier furnishing that he obviously couldn’t have brought in his sylladex, like his blocky wardrobe and bed. They appeared normal, if not starkly plain. He probably hasn’t even used his bed judging by how neatly its duvet was tucked in, as if the messy hoard of frayed pillows and blankets in the back corner wasn’t enough of an indicator.

    By the time my gaze landed on him again, he was holding up his present with the wrapping paper strewn across his lap. His face was nearly as scarlet as the lingerie he was dangling in front of him. 

    “Why. Just tell me why. if I get a ‘one straight answer’ pass, please let me use it on this. Fucking  _ why _ ?” He looked me in the eye, almost entirely rigid like a goddamn hunk of wood.

    “Well,” I began as I stood and approached him. “You and I both know that I am well aware of the kind of tighty whities you wear all the damn time, and I ain’t gonna lie; they look real good on you. So I thought to myself, ‘why not do the bastard a favor and get him the whole set?” By the time I finished, I had my hands planted on the mattress on either side of his hips and was leaning over him. “Now how’s about we find out if I’m the only one who rocks the color red,” I murmured to him in that low, sultry tone I knew he liked and licked my lips, gazing into his eyes overtop my tilted shades.

    I expected another smartass comment in reply, but when he opened his mouth, only raspy chirp escaped those enticing, chapped lips of his. When he neglected to make the first move, my hands slid to hold his outer thighs, and I pressed my chest to his, my face tucking into the juncture of his neck and shoulder as his hands dropped to the mattress. As my palms traveled from his legs to the tucked-in edge of his shirt, I kissed and bit my way up to his ear, making sure to avoid those little vestigial gills just below the corner of his jaw. “You _are_ going to try em on, right?” I whispered. “I mean, I know you will anyways, so why not do it while I’m here to see it?”

    I felt his breath stutter against my neck as I dipped my fingertips below his waistband and untucked his sweater. “Besides, it would be rude not to,” I went on. “I went through all that trouble to get them. I even wrapped ‘em up all pretty just for you. The least you could do is give me a little preview.” I inched my hands up his sides, drawing high-pitched clicks from him when I passed over his grub scars. “I even got you a cute bra for these babies.” I suddenly laid my hands over what were almost big enough to qualify as a-cups. “So what do you say?”

    I could feel his chest expand with one more breath before he seemed to regain motor skills and planted his palms firmly on my chest. “Get off of me, buttmunch,” he grunted; I took satisfaction in the breathy undertone of his words and weak-ass insult.

    “Ouch,” I deadpanned as I straightened up and returned to my place at his desk. “I am severely injured. That insult hit hard, man. Right in the dick. Great, now I’m forever impotent. Good job, you just murdered your chances of getting laid tonight or ever again.”

    Karkat gave me the good ol’ middle talon after getting to his wobbly feet. “No way. You’re the only one never getting fucked again. You know I’d get my quadrants filled tenfold before you even get a moirail,” he grumbled as he made his way to his door and unlocked it. Without much more warning, he yanked me up and shoved me out into the dark, empty corridor. The door was closed before I could even turn around. 

    Even with my ear pressed to the cold door, I couldn’t hear a sound. “Hurry up,” I called through it after giving him about five minutes to change. I nearly fell over when he suddenly opened it again and pulled me through. 

    “Shut up,” he snarled right in my face after the door slammed shut behind me. “In case you didn’t already know, Kanaya and Rose are right down the fucking hall, so we can’t be as recklessly obvious like you try so hard to be in your sequestered block.” 

    “Speak for yourself,” I quipped and took a step back from him. “Mister ‘I don’t know any other method of closing doors other than slamming them as hard as possible in an attempt to make the entire fucking meteor shake off course’.” My gaze was drifting down over his body as my mouth ran on autopilot. I’d be lying if I said red didn’t look fucking breathtaking on him.

    I silently complimented myself for doing such a good job of alchemizing the set. Sure, some parts, like the sheer bra, were a few sizes too small--maybe I was wrong about his hypothetical cup size after all--but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. A little bit of sexy squish never did anyone harm. Every other aspect, however, was utterly flawless. Of course, you can never go wrong with lace, and the bows on the stockings and garters were a nice touch, if I do say so myself. There was even a heart cutout in the ass of the panties, which came into sight when I began circling him. 

    I was so caught up in admiring it all that I didn’t even realize he wasn’t talking until I returned to the space in front of him. That healthy blush from earlier was still burning strong as ever, which didn’t exactly go hand in hand with that death glare, but I expected nothing less from him.

    “Are you done yet?” he snarled once I slowed to a stop, “or have I become a permanent landmark for everyone on this rock to stare at when they all visit for erotic sight-seeing?” He folded his arms in front of his chest, and I noticed his legs were hugged together too. The poor thing was embarrassed.

    I couldn’t bare to resist any longer. My arms snaked around his waist like they knew the contours by heart, and our chests collided once again. I was almost too distracted by the flurry of thoughts trying to mold on my tongue that the insistent pressing of my binder was nearly forgotten; that baby’s gotta be coming off real soon, but it wasn’t nearly as important as feeling up this sexy-ass klazomaniac right the fuck now. 

    No matter how much I’d told myself that Karkat’s disgusting and horrible and infuriating, my own motherfucking mind had betrayed me. I wouldn’t dare tell him a word of it, though. Instead, my hands whispered how hot he was as they skimmed over his warm back. My incisors left blossoming bruises along his clavicle that growled how sexy he was. Finally, my lips captured his for the first time ever, and my kiss told him how fucking unfairly he was treating himself, how his own words never did himself justice, how if he couldn't see how goddamn well he rocked his own body, then I’d show him.

    I could feel a million things all at once. The pulse under his skin. The heat mingling between us. The solidity of his chest. The straps and lace beneath my fingers. The rumble of his deep purr. And more than anything, the flutter of his eyelashes against my cheek the moment my lips parted on their own. His tongue delved into my mouth immediately, and I wanted more. I pressed even more heavily against him as our lips instinctively moved with each other. He took a step back, and I took one forwards, gradually backing him towards his bedding pile. His presence’s disappearance was punctuated with a sharp gasp when he toppled back into the mound, and I opened my eyes.

     He had fallen onto his back with his legs slightly parted and his arms half buried in a tangle of sheets and pillows. Beneath the narrow crotch of his panties, his wiggly caught my eye. Its girth much exceeded the width of the thin, taut lace covering it, giving me a decent peek of what I’d find underneath. I didn’t even have to think to kneel down between his thighs, spread his legs a little more, and press my hand over the writhing lump in his intimates. As I felt along the outline of it, the thing abruptly vanished, and Karkat keened. After tugging aside the fabric hiding it, I reflexively licked my lips at the sight of it buried in his own snatch. Oh.

    “Don’t just stare!” he snarled indignantly, breaking my brief trance. “Are you going to help or what?” Of course, with his “one straight answer” pass all good and gone, I wasn’t in any rush to give him a reply, and it wasn’t like I knew exactly _what_  he was asking me to do. Thus, all I did was shrug, earning myself a feral growl. “Fine, I’ll take care of it myself.”

    The realization of what he wanted to accomplish finally crossed my mind when he reached down between his thighs with both hands. I instantly had them pinned to the squishy pile at either side of his head, and I cracked a smirk.

    “Not so fucking fast,” I cooed and shifted up enough to kneel astride his hips. “I never told you to take it out.”

    Before he could breathe a word of something that’d probably be along the lines of “you’re not the boss of me”, I sat my ass right down on the hilt of his not-so-little red warrior. His back bent up like a bow, and mine bent forwards a little, too. It’s not like you could blame me, though. Even through my jeans and boxers, I could feel that calescent, unyielding heat right _there_  under my crotch, and despite how that one big-ass denim seam down the middle of my pants were surely chafing his sex schnauzer like a bitch, he seemed to be enjoying this twice as much with how much he was bucking his hips arrhythmically and trilling. Makes sense since he _was_  pretty much smashing himself, therefore simultaneously getting smashed by himself while I was just getting a sweet taste of things on the surface. Nonetheless, my jeans had to go, and the way my binder was biting into my underarms told me that shit was next in line. I wasn’t looking forwards to it.

    His eyes, which were barely able to stay peeked open seconds ago, snapped wide when I stood. Surprisingly, he seemed more disappointed than angry, as if he instantly assumed I’d just spontaneously decided to tuck tail and run. Once was in the process of shimmying out of my tight pants, however, he caught on.

    “That’s what you get for wearing skinny jeans,” he managed to remark even though his schlonger was still more than halfway inside of himself. 

    “Hey, you don’t have shit on me. You wear leggings. They’re basically the same fucking thing,” I argued as I kicked them aside before tossing off my top.

    “That’s horse shit.” He managed to prop himself up into a sitting position, forcing a couple inches of alien dong outta his puss. “Shit…” he hissed but quickly recovered enough to speak relatively normally. “There’s a fucking difference, and everyone with more than your two pan cells knows it.”

    “That’s great, but…” I paused so that I could wrestle off my old, shitty binder. Once it was on the floor, I reflexively crossed my arms. God _damn_ , he kept this place freezing. “But I don’t see how that has anything to do with rolling round under the sheets. By the way, until you figure out your fucking thermostat, I’m never giving you a strip show in your room ever again.” With the way he was looking at me, I belatedly remembered that I’d never actually given him one before in the first place, which was nigh-baffling considering the number of times we’ve done this sort of thing.

    I went ahead and took off my boxers while I was at it, and for the first time ever in the same room, I was more naked than him. Fortunately, he was either courteous enough not to ruin the mood by asking questions or too caught up in the moment to care. Whatever his reason was, I was grateful that he didn’t decide to make this into a lesson on the human body and let me get back to business.

    “I swear to fuck,” I muttered as I knelt over him again, automatically laying my hands over his bra cups while I was at it, “if I get some intergalactic STD from you, I’m resetting the entire timeline and cutting off your dick when we meet.” With that, I precariously lowered myself down more, closing the space between our hips. 

    “Holy shit,” we both breathed in what was almost unison when I pressed myself against his squishy, squirming equivalent to a shaft. For a moment, our chests were flush, and then I sat up, making us both groan when my weight added more pressure between us. I kept my hands on his chest, propping myself up as I started to slowly rock my hips back and forth. Karkat, who seemed to have been trying his best to keep still for the past few minutes, suddenly bucked up with a sharp cry, and I hissed out another moan. With a quick glance behind me, I figured out why. With the way I had been shifting and pressing on the base of his willy, I had unintentionally forced it deeper into him, and he was rapidly losing his eloquence to a myriad of less-than-human noises. It wouldn't be long before he’d finish, which meant I’d be left out in the cold. 

    I leaned down and swiped my tongue along the edge of his ear. “Hey sweetheart, you listening?” He whimpered in response. “Great.” I rutted my hips a little harder and moaned into his ear. He answered with a gaspy chirp. “You’re not to cum unless I say you can, got it?” He nodded exuberantly, and I chuckled breathily. “Good boy.”

    His hips jerked under me again, and any hopes of taking that exchange any further vanished. I shut my eyes and allowed myself to rest atop his chest again, faintly feeling his racing heartbeat under his skin. I rolled my hips down harder, and he squealed, his arms suddenly wrapped around me and his hands clutching the backs of my shoulders. 

    “Fu-uck, Dave,” he panted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need to, please, I can’t take it.”

    I hushed him and scraped my incisors over the flared filaments of his gills, which was kinda counterproductive since it only made him cry out vehemently. I raised my lips to his ear instead, letting them brush against the velvety, soft skin before murmuring, “You can take it.” I swallowed thickly and sunk my teeth into my lower lip for a couple seconds, attempting to hinder my own unwarranted moans. “Just- mm…” Dammit. I tried again. “Just a little longer.”

    He whined and tilted his hips up, which I assumed was a feeble endeavor to present himself, but all it did was have me slip forwards on his slick dick. Within a split second, I felt the firm edge of his bone bulge, the sheath that was opened up around his hilt, press against my clit. My senses zeroed in on the electrifying thrill of the sensation, and my body took the reins, moving on its own. I ground against the hard edge until my thighs were trembling and I could barely register the sound of Karkat’s begging. My mind lagged behind while my mouth poured out garbled words mostly consisting of “Almost, almost,” but I eventually got the right one out.

    “Now.”

    I kissed him, and he sobbed ecstatically into my mouth as all that had been wound up deep within the both of us snapped, releasing an overwhelming torrent of _everything_  until it felt like every composite molecule in my body was screaming “yes” as loud as he was. Even after it was all well and done, I was left in a euphoric haze as I laid panting on top of Karkat. With the way his chest was heaving under me, I could tell he was in the same state. 

    I couldn’t stay like that on top of him even long enough to catch my breath. The cold permeated our shared heat much sooner than I wished it did, but regardless, I did not plan on just laying there and letting it engulf me. It had already cooled the slimy residue of our shared fluids between my legs, accompanying a shudder up my back with an outbreak of goosebumps, but I found myself unable to get up. Karkat’s arms, which still encircled my upper body, were too stubborn to be moved when I attempted to push myself off of him. He whined and nestled his face into the crook of my neck, so I stopped fighting his hold and relaxed on top of him, focusing on his warmth against my chest instead of the cold on my back.

    “Karkat, I wanna get up,” I mumbled into his warm shoulder, which was sticky with sweat. “I gotta go back to my room and clean up and shit.”

    He rolled over, resulting in the two of us laying on our sides in a kind of awkward embrace. Still, he was holding me so close that I could feel the movement of his little comrade when it retracted. My entire body jolted from the friction against my sensitive clit.

    Karkat snickered. “My bad.”

    “Asshole.” I settled back down against him.

    “You know, you’re kind of obligated to spend the night with me, now,” he muttered into my neck.

    “Says who?”

    “Says the one still wearing a fucking bra.”

    “Hey, that was a present. If anything, that should be even more of an incentive to let me go shower off your nasty alien cum.”

    He hugged me tighter, somehow. “Mmm. You shouldn’t be complaining. Most of my ‘nasty alien cum’ is now inside of me.” 

    I fought against his gorilla grip for a little longer before slumping into his chest. “I promise I’ll come back after I clean up, if that’s what you want,” I grumbled into his clavicle. Apparently, that was all he wanted from me. His hold on me immediately laxed, and I was granted the freedom squirm out of his arms. I nearly toppled over when I got onto my feet but maintained my balance long enough to pull my pants on, gather the rest of my clothes, and flashstep to my room. 

    After a hasty shower and a change of clothes, I returned to his place in pajamas. I figured that since it was already so late, I would be welcomed to stay the night. His door was unlocked, so I took it upon myself to barge in like a true gentleman without knocking. After all, why bother waiting for him to get up from where I assumed he was still curled up? I didn’t feel like enduring any more bitching and moaning than usual.

    I quickly discovered just how wrong I was about the still-snug-as-a-bug-in-a-mound-of-pillows thing. It looked like Karkat had cleaned up while I was gone. The lingerie was folded neatly on his desk, the bits and pieces that had fallen off the bedding pile were tucked back into their places, and he was sitting on top in sweatpants with a book in his hands.

    “It’s about goddamn time,” he muttered without looking up at me. By the time I crossed the carpet to where he was waiting, he’d shut his novel and scooted down so that he was sitting closer to the base of the pile with his back was comfortably settled against the front of it. “I didn’t even know it was possible for ablutions to take that long.”

    “Oh shut up.” I dropped my ass right down next to his. “It was only like twenty minutes.” 

    “How haven’t you used up all of the water on this moronic rock? At this rate, we’ll never be able to alchemize enough water to keep up when we run out,” he sneered, although it sounded  halfhearted at most. I didn’t blame him. We were both tired. By the time Karkat’s mouth shut again, his arms were around me and his chin was resting on my head.

    “Yeah, yeah, I’ll work on it.” I seized the book from his hand and looked at the title on the hard cover, which was in Alternian, of course. “What are we reading?” 

    He took it back before I had a chance to decipher what it was about. “None of your business.”

    “Listen, man. If we’re gonna be bundled up here all night and cuddle like girls, the least you can do is explain what the hell that book’s about,” I argued.

    “It’d be easier to read it to you than to explain everything so far. I doubt your miniscule encephalon can handle the complicated plotline without sufficient imagery.”

    “Shit, go for it.” I got all comfy in his arms, snuggling my face into his neck and closing my eyes as he began reading from what sounded like the very beginning. Things got real cozy when he pulled a thick blanket from beside us on the pile and covered us up without stumbling over more than a couple words. Gradually, a deep purr rumbled forth from his chest and grew so loud that I could feel the vibration from it over the gentle resonance of his voice. The longer Karkat read, the sleepier I got without even realizing it until inevitably, his voice began to sound underwater and drowsiness got the best of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is my gift to all of you. Happy holidays, you filthy animals.  
> Also, sorry for the wait. My schedule is kicking my ass, and my health hasn't been in a great place for the past couple of months, but things should start getting better once this semester is over. I can't make any promises about when I'll be finished with the next chapter, but I'll try not to take as long as I did with this one.


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